


In the Wooded Deep

by deluxemycroft



Series: Ouroboros [21]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Friends, Captain America Sam Wilson, Control Issues, Depression, Identity Issues, In The Woods, Insecure Bucky Barnes, Insecurity, Loki's cabin, Loneliness, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Norn Stones, Relationship Discussions, Relationship Problems, Time Skips, stephen strange shows affection by being a jerk, unrealistic animal portrayals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluxemycroft/pseuds/deluxemycroft
Summary: Bucky Barnes, alone in the woods.Overhead, a falcon soars.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Stephen Strange, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Series: Ouroboros [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1199902
Kudos: 8





	In the Wooded Deep

**Author's Note:**

> takes place during 'so we tread on' and during the next fic in this series (which is tentatively called 'he onward came' as of right now). i did a little research into falcons and birds and i don't think this portrayal of a wild falcon is very realistic, but that's what fiction is for. maybe imagine it's an escaped domesticated bird or something if you feel the need. i dunno.
> 
> i'm also hacking away at the next fic in this series (i think i'm like halfway done with it?) so hopefully i'll finish that soon!
> 
> i wanted to write bucky as really struggling with an identity crisis after the change and i think he would fixate on his relationship with sam instead of himself, so that's what i worked to portray.
> 
>  **bold** is texting
> 
> happy new year everyone!! hope you enjoy

Bucky Barnes finished putting away what remained of his life and then left the small cabin, digging his toes into the cold grass, looking out over the quiet forest and the lightening sky above. The sun was due up soon, and he intended to watch it rise every day. He took a moment to duck back inside and put water in the kettle and turn it on, finding a mug and a tea bag, setting it all on the counter and then looking out through the window, losing himself in thought.

When the kettle clicked off, he made himself some tea and went back outside to listen to the world slowly come alive as the sun began to shine between the tall trees. He sat on the porch, bare feet in the dirt, and silently sipped at his tea.

It was peaceful around him, but it was not peaceful inside him.

Bucky considered himself to be a relatively calm person, and even mostly rational. He knew that went out the window a bit when it came to people and his relationships with them, especially Sam, but he did his best. He was probably better when he was younger, before HYDRA, but that was neither here nor there. 

He finished his tea as the sun shined on him. He thought.

The difficult thing was that he didn’t know what to do. He and Sam were at a stalemate. He’d gotten Clint to live long enough for Loki to come back, and he couldn’t put any more responsibility than that on himself. He needed to focus on himself.

He was worried about Steve, though. He always worried about Steve, even now that he was huge and dumber than ever. Of course Steve would fall in love with an alien and marry him. Who else? Of course Steve would be worthy of a mystical, magical hammer and also an Infinity Stone. Like Bucky didn’t have enough to worry about. 

He sighed to himself. He’d spent the last six months wracking his brain for where Steve could be, and why he’d left to begin with. Bucky had thought at first that Steve was going to find Loki, but he was sure that Steve would’ve at least _told_ someone that was his plan, and he would have stayed on Earth for longer than a couple days after the battle. And why didn’t he stick around to see everything that changed? Why didn’t he stay behind to help?

Bucky sighed to himself. He’d been asking himself the same questions for months. He had to pick up the remains of his life and begin anew and he didn’t even know where to start.

He wanted that new start, that after Thanos start, that new beginning after all the fighting, _with_ Sam. He wanted to wake up and go to sleep in Sam’s arms, spend the day with him...do whatever it was that couples did together when they weren’t working against the end of the world. Bucky didn’t know, but he wanted to learn that with Sam.

He wanted to learn a lot with Sam. He’d thrown himself into helping Clint after the change, knowing that if he focused on his memories changing without his knowledge, he’d well and truly lose it, and he wished he could’ve...known sooner, or changed something somehow. Maybe he could’ve taken a day to think about it and realized it was eerily similar to what Sam had told him about Riley being killed, maybe he could have done...anything other than, what, tell the truth? Lie? He wasn’t Loki.

That was unfair, though there was no one around to know.

Bucky got up and made himself more tea. It was starting to turn to winter so he started a fire in the grate, changed the sheets on the small bed and picked through the small fridge and the food cupboard, both of which were new since the last time Bucky had been there, and were also both full of food. Looked like Loki must’ve stocked up for him.

He made himself some oatmeal, sitting in front of the warm fire and figuring out what he was going to do next. Set some traps, figure out where the wards ended, maybe see if he could intentionally change the shape of the seidr arm. Write in his journal. Maybe write a letter to Sam.

It felt good to be alone, to not be responsible for anyone else. He’d run himself ragged trying to help Clint and keep him from killing himself; there had been barely any time for himself. Which was fine; he’d had plenty of time to angst over his problems. But there were always more problems, and always more memories, and always more horrible things he’d done, always more lives he’d ruined.

He should’ve known it would break bad with Sam. He’d been pushing at their relationship, pressing for breaks and waiting for it to go bad, waiting for Sam to tire of him or find someone better, and he’d just...ruined it himself. Like he did everything else.

He decided he’d write Sam a letter. Apologize, tell him he loved him, tell him that even though he’d eaten part of the golden apple that he didn’t have to feel indebted to Bucky...maybe not that last one. He didn’t know how to make it better. He couldn’t promise never to do it again—Loki and Shuri had gotten the words out of his head, but what if there were more? What if someone else took him and made him hurt people he cared about? There were too many possibilities for that promise to mean anything. But he could try.

He just didn’t know what to _do._

Maybe Sam didn’t feel safe with him. He could...maybe Sam could tie him up, even though the thought made him feel nauseous with fear. Maybe Sam could...he didn’t even know.

Realistically, there wasn’t anything Bucky could do. Sam had to work through it in his own time. Maybe Bucky pushing him just made him take longer, or maybe made him realize that Bucky wasn’t worth it. There were a lot better people out in the world for someone like Sam, people that hadn’t killed his best friend. 

But what else was he supposed to do? _Not_ try and apologize? He knew Sam needed time and space, but it was hard, and Bucky had had enough of his life being hard. Just for once, he wanted to be given something and not have to hold on with both hands and as hard as he could to not even keep it in the end. Wasn’t he owed something good? How much more did he need to suffer to be worthy?

He shook his head at himself. Thoughts like that didn’t help anything. They just made him feel terrible.

He stared down into his cold tea and sighed. He got up and poured it out into the sink, looking out the window to the quiet, empty woods. He couldn’t focus on Sam—the man was busy, he knew that. He’d kept up with him while he was at Clint’s house; always checking the news and had even tried to figure out Twitter to keep up with what the Avengers were doing on there. _That_ hadn’t been fun. He’d gone through the replies to one of Sam’s tweets and had to exit the website before he did a lot of things he regretted.

Bucky moved back over and stoked the fire, trying to keep his hands busy. He wanted to spend time by himself, figure himself out, and he had a sinking feeling he was going to spend the next however many weeks or months worrying himself sick. He decided to take a nap; maybe the world would make more sense when he woke up.

* * *

Bucky quickly found a routine over the next few weeks. He would wake up, thankful whenever he got a good night’s rest that wasn’t plagued with nightmares, and make himself a small breakfast and drink tea while he watched the sunrise. He would get the fire going again and warm up the cold cabin while he rinsed himself off in the sink and got dressed, then he went for a walk in the woods as the sun crested over the trees.

The time alone cleared his head. There was no running, no threat, no shadow looming over his shoulder, no HYDRA, no Thanos, no Thor. For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was truly a free man. He could spend the next hundred years in this cabin if he so chose; he doubted Loki would care. The forest was calm and mostly quiet, with a few birds flying overhead and squirrels and other various animals chittering at him or scampering off once they heard him coming.

He checked his various traps every few days, not needing the food but enjoying it. Loki had set up some kind of spell on the cabinets in the kitchen where they always opened to precisely what Bucky was hungry for, which meant he didn’t really have to cook, but the traps were something to do. Anything to keep him busy.

If there was anything in the traps, he’d field dress it, reset the traps, and take the carcasses back to the cabin, where he’d cook them up over the fire. If not, he’d continue his walk, staying within the wards and not letting himself think of anything in particular. His boots crunched over the leaves and every so often, he kicked up something peculiar, some strange piece of metal or armor, and he realized that it was the remnants of the battle Thor and Loki had had here, all those years ago. Either it must’ve happened even with the change, or perhaps the cabin was somehow there regardless or protected? No way for Bucky to know.

After he ate lunch, he went back outside and practiced meditating and some yoga in the small clearing in front of the cabin. He had a good tolerance for cold, so it didn’t bother him, and he could clear his mind regardless of the temperature. He did mediate inside the cabin once it started snowing, although the weather didn’t stop his walks.

Once the sun went down, he lit a few candles, made some tea, and dug out a book to read. Everything was quiet and peaceful and it was exactly what Bucky needed.

He went to bed when he was tired, and he curled up against a large body pillow—he’d been a bit ashamed to realize that he needed to at least feel like he was sleeping with someone else to get any rest—and let sleep take him away.

Nothing changed in Bucky’s life unless he wanted it to change. The cupboard always opened to what he wanted, even if it was oatmeal and coffee every morning, and when he finished a book, he put it on the tiny, rickety nightstand, and a new one appeared in the morning. He never ran out of firewood and the candles never burned down. If he wanted the candles to be scented, then they were, filling the cabin with whatever smell he wanted for as long as he wanted. 

Loki somehow knew that the best thing for him would be to be in complete control of his environment at all times. Or maybe Clint had told him. Either or, it didn’t matter.

If he hadn’t noticed the falcon, nothing would’ve changed.

* * *

Bucky didn’t know much about falcons, or birds in general. He knew enough to tease Sam about them, but hadn’t really found much use for knowledge other than that. But he knew a falcon when he saw it, and surprised himself by knowing it was a prairie falcon on sight. He didn’t know if those were common wherever Loki’s cabin was, but found he didn’t much care.

The bird kept close to the cabin, and Bucky noticed that it would fly lazily overhead while he went on his walks, even perching on trees to watch him. It would occasionally fly off and he found himself looking for it, tension easing out of his chest once he sighted the familiar figure outlined against the sky.

He started leaving some of the small rodents he found in his traps out for it, putting them in the middle of the clearing and then going back inside the cabin to watch. Once the bird grew comfortable with that, he started waiting on the front porch to watch the falcon eat, and over time, over weeks, there came the time when he put the food down and sat down cross-legged next to it, only for the falcon to swoop down and look curiously at him.

“Hi,” Bucky whispered, almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. The falcon’s head tilted to the side, big eyes staring up at him. “I’m Bucky.”

The bird hopped forward and held the rodent down with its feet, ripping off beak-sized chunks and swallowing them down. Bucky watched curiously, not saying anything, barely daring to breathe, eyes wide as he tried to take everything in. 

Once it was finished, the falcon looked at him again, and then with a swish of its wings, it took to the sky again. Bucky watched it go, and then let out the breath he’d been holding. Sheesh. Wow. There were goosebumps all up and down his back.

He tossed whatever was left of the rodent off into the woods and went back inside the cabin.

It took longer for the bird to become comfortable with eating out of Bucky’s hand, and he eventually got it to the point where he would leave the cabin and it would fly down and land on the porch railing, watching him curiously. It followed him around and he eventually got it to sit on his shoulder while he walked. He didn’t know what to call it, but he remembered Sam’s drone that came out of his wing-pack, so he named it Redwing.

He hadn’t heard anything from Sam in months, but he’d been writing to the man every night. He hadn’t sent any of the letters and instead folded them up and put them in the back of the journal Loki had given him for his 100th birthday. Most of them were stream of consciousness, nothing that anyone else should really be reading, but they were true and came from the heart.

Once they figured out Redwing to ride around on his shoulder, bringing it inside was easy. The magical cabinet produced some kind of bird food that Bucky was able to carry around in a small bag on his belt instead of having to deal with animal parts, although the two of them still regularly hunted. The days were slowly getting longer, so the two of them spent more time outside, enjoying each other’s company.

He liked taking care of something else, something alive. It was nice to be responsible for something that could still take care of itself if he needed it to. On bad days, he opened the door and Redwing flew outside and came back near dark, and then it perched on a branch he had cut down and nailed to a wall. It seemed to enjoy his company, which was nice, but other than food and water, he didn’t have to engage with it if he didn’t have the energy.

He missed Sam. He missed Steve, he missed his friends, he even missed Loki. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d left Clint’s house and come out to the cabin, but it had to be three or so months at least.

He decided to go back to Clint’s house, but didn’t know what to do with Redwing. The bird had been his only companion during the long lonely winter days, and he didn’t know how it would react to Loki’s transportation stone. He doubted it would kill the bird, but to make sure, he texted Clint about it.

**Can an animal survive being transported by one of the transportation stones?**

It took awhile for Clint to answer, at least a few days, but Bucky was in no rush.

Finally, the answer came: **Probably. Should I ask what you’re doing?**

In lieu of an answer, Bucky patted his shoulder and Redwing flew across the cabin and landed there, and he smiled slightly at the camera on his phone, sending Clint a selfie of the two of them.

A few minutes later, he got a picture in return of Clint, wearing a purple tunic, and from what Bucky could tell, he was sitting next to a tree, although the bark didn’t look like any trees that Bucky knew from Earth. Clint was smiling and giving the camera a thumbs up. Bucky smiled at the picture.

 **Loki fixed you, then?** Bucky asked him.

**Something like that, yeah. Your bird?**

**That’s good. I guess it’s mine. I found it out here.**

Clint sent him a thumbs up emoji and didn’t reply, which Bucky took to mean that it was probably fine to somewhat domesticate a random bird he found. He put his phone away and finished packing up his meager belongings.

“You ready?” he asked Redwing, reaching up to pet the falcon’s soft stomach feathers. The bird peered at him with one beady black eye and Bucky picked up the transportation stone from the table beside the bed. “It doesn’t hurt,” he warned, “but it’s weird.”

He curled his hand around the stone, looked down at it. It was dark, dark blue, almost the color of the deep ocean, and it made something uneasy curl up in his chest. He glanced around the cabin again, double checking he got everything, and then wished to go home. Redwing panicked as Loki’s magic swarmed them, picking them up out of thin air and yanking them through time and space, depositing the two of them only moments later in the empty, dark space of Clint’s house.

Redwing leapt from Bucky’s shoulder, barely able to catch flight, flying around the house in a daze and a frenzy, and Bucky tried to calm it down, but found himself unable. “It’s alright,” he soothed, rushing to the front door and trying to herd the bird outside. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t leave you behind.”

He managed to get the bird outside and followed it as it flew in loopy, unsettling circles over the front yard, finally clumsily landing on the fence. Bucky gave it a moment and then hesitatingly made his way closer, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry,” he said again, voice soft. He reached into his bag and pulled out a bit of bird food, holding it out. “I threw up the first time I used one of those stones. It’s probably even worse for a bird.”

Redwing spread its wings out to the side and did a huge, full-body shake, and then turned on the fence post, cocking its head up at Bucky as he approached. It took the falcon a moment to see the food he was holding out, and then Redwing took flight and landed on his seidr arm, taking the food from his hand and gulping it down. Bucky pet the bird’s chest plumage and let out a sigh of relief.

He turned to look at the quiet, dark house and let out a tired sigh.

It didn’t feel like home. But welcome home.

* * *

Loki had left Bucky a few various transportation stones. One was one that only he could activate that took him to the cabin, as well as one that returned him home. There was another that would take him to the Avengers Facility, and he fiddled with that one for a few days. There was a fourth stone that Loki hadn’t told him where it would take him, and when Bucky had asked, Loki had only smiled, so Bucky assumed it either took him to Hel or Asgard or maybe some weird planet where everything was cheese or something.

The Avengers Facility stone constantly weighed on him. Bucky had dozens of letters he’d written to Sam and while he’d generally written them with the intent that Sam wouldn’t read them, they still felt heavy, like he needed to rid himself of them. Either he needed to throw them out, which he couldn’t find the strength to do, or he needed to give them to Sam, which he also couldn’t stomach.

But he missed everyone. He’d spent however many months alone at the cabin with just a bird for company.

Redwing loved Clint’s house. He was at home there, able to soar high above the various fields and the woods, free to hunt for himself and to join Bucky on his long walks. He still watched the sunrise every morning, enjoying the peculiar peace and quiet of the house, sitting by himself on the porch swing at night, telling himself he wasn’t desperately lonely.

He still felt like there wasn’t a right answer. There was no right thing for him to do to win Sam back. He hadn’t gotten any calls or texts or emails from Sam, or any of the other Avengers, which made him worry they didn’t see him as someone who could help.

For a while, for a few days, Bucky wanted Steve more than anything else. Steve was his best friend, had been there for him through maybe not everything, but had at least been a comrade in spirit. Even if he didn’t understand Bucky, he was there as a steadfast pillar of support, and he was Bucky’s best friend, and Bucky loved him. If anything, Steve could’ve helped. Bucky just needed someone to talk to, and there wasn’t anyone.

There was only Redwing and the trees and the fields and the wind.

Everyone was gone. Laura, the kids, Sam, Steve, Loki, Clint...even Stephen Strange. Bucky wandered through the empty house and wondered at how he felt being more lost at home than anywhere else.

Redwing was happy, but Bucky was alone.

He made the decision to go to the Avengers Facility on a sunny, warm day. It felt like the first day of summer, truly warm enough that he woke up before the sun and covered in sweat, and he couldn’t remember if the house had had air conditioning before the change. He took a cold shower and then took Redwing for a walk and grimaced at the sunrise as it brought only more heat and humidity and discomfort.

The Avengers Facility would be better, he thought. And Sam was there.

Bucky called Redwing over after gathering up all of the letters he’d written Sam, as well as his 100-year journal, and he smoothed down his clothes. He and Clint were close to the same size in clothes—Clint was shorter than he was but their shoulders were nearly as broad—and Bucky regularly took clothes from his closet. He’d taken a nice dark blue shirt from Clint’s closet and nervously smoothed it down before he picked up the transportation stone. He wore that shirt and a pair of black jeans and black boots and had even brushed back his hair, which he’d started growing out again. It was still short and Bucky didn’t know which way he liked it better, but there was no one around to help him cut it.

Redwing landed on his shoulder and Bucky closed his fist around the stone, letting his eyes flutter shut. Something yanked at his gut and nausea roiled up in his gut as they were yanked through time and space, and then they landed, Bucky opening his eyes to see that the two of them had landed inside the Avengers Facility. In fact, they were in a room. It was similar to a conference room but Bucky could feel the magic on it, warding it.

Before him were Stephen Strange and Sam Wilson, and Strange had a bag of peculiar shaped and colored rocks in his hands. Bucky turned as Redwing threw himself backwards off his shoulder, flying drunkenly through the air, wings barely able to hold him aloft, and then the falcon made his way towards Sam right as one of the strange stones in Strange’s hands flashed blue.

* * *

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair._

There was little in Bucky’s life that had been fair. He knew that and he’d accepted that. However long he had left, he understood that. But it wasn’t _fair._

The Stones were from Loki. Apparently they were Norn Stones, whatever that meant. They reacted to intent on behalf of the caster, but those specific Stones were muddled and mixed up; Thor had used them to bind the spell that created the time loop, which made them unpredictable. Strange had gotten them a few months ago and had brought them to the Facility to see—something. Bucky hadn’t been paying attention. Something to do with Wanda or the Vision maybe? He didn’t _care._

They had reacted to Strange’s sudden burst of adrenaline at seeing Bucky appear out of nowhere and had reached out to bind Sam to Redwing.

The two of them were inexplicably linked. According to Strange, who worked some freaky magic with orange lights or whatever, they had a telepathic bond. But Redwing was Bucky’s friend. _He’d_ been the one to spend months gentling the bird and now it was somehow bound to Sam?

Strange had refused to let him leave the Avengers Facility, which was just great. Sam had his bird and he was alone again and all he could do was hang out with Strange, who was maybe the weirdest guy _ever_ besides Loki and Bucky just wanted to go back to the cabin and live out his days in quiet.

Bucky had been dreaming about birds for years, and he finally got one, only for it to be taken away from him. At least Sam and Redwing seemed to get along—they spent hours outside together every day and the falcon perched on Sam’s shoulder whenever they were inside. Sam had retrofitted an empty room in his personal rooms for the bird and Bucky hadn’t asked to see it, nor had he been invited.

Strange was the only one who seemed to notice something was up with Bucky. The guy was weirdly pushy and Bucky realized it came from a place of affection when he caught a glimpse of Strange’s lockscreen: a picture of Clint, which was kind of cute of him. Then it made Bucky annoyed and depressed because he knew no one would ever do that for him. It was painfully obvious that he and Sam were over.

He’d known it was coming, but it was still horrible. Strange bullied him into eating three meals a day with him and the two of them sat at a table by themselves in the mess hall, and Bucky watched as Sam came to get his own meals a couple times a day and never joined them.

If he’d done anything else, there would have been a way to fix it. There would have been _something_ for Bucky to do, but there wasn’t. He’d thought—he’d thought time would fix it. But it had been nearly a year. If that wasn’t enough time, Bucky couldn’t imagine how much longer it could take. Sam was telling him everything he needed to know and Bucky couldn’t take being around him, but Strange wouldn’t let him leave. It was something to do with the magic of bringing an animal through one of Loki’s portals, as well as exploring the bond between Redwing and Sam and why the Norn Stones had chosen him instead of Bucky or anyone else. Bucky also had a suspicion that Strange knew he shouldn’t be alone, but Bucky also felt like he needed to retreat and lick his wounds.

They were eating breakfast one morning, Strange telling him about some weird book about teleportation magic he was reading, when Sam walked past their table and suddenly stopped. He looked between the two of them and then sat down next to Strange, across the table from Bucky. Bucky had been at the Facility for almost a month and hadn’t eaten a meal once with Sam. Sam picked at his food and sipped at his coffee and listened to Strange talk about his weird magic.

“Given that Loki doesn’t pull his magic from other dimensions like we do,” Strange continued, “it must act on animals differently than our own magic. I think—”

“You look tired, Bucky,” Sam blurted out, then face-palmed, shaking his head at himself. “Sorry. I’m…” He sighed, looked at Bucky across the table. “I didn’t mean to let it go on so long.”

“You don’t...owe me anything, Sam,” Bucky told him, ducking his chin and staring down at his half-eaten plate. He squeezed his seidr hand into a fist underneath the table and tried to regulate his breathing. Strange kicked him lightly underneath the table and Bucky glared at him. Strange did something with his head and twisted his face in some weird way and Bucky stared blankly back at him. Really, what did Clint see in him?

“Bucky, no,” Sam said, leaning forward, stretching a hand across the table, palm up. “I promised you that I wouldn’t hurt you and I failed. I’ve spent the last eleven months missing you and it was my own fault.”

Bucky swallowed, tried to nod and shake his head at the same time. “It was my fault,” he told Sam, who frowned at him. “I know I didn’t have a choice, but I still did it. I never wanted to hurt you, Sam. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

Strange made a curious sound and both Bucky and Sam looked at him. “Perhaps your office would be a more appropriate venue for this conversation,” Strange offered up, using his magic to collect their plates into a pile. Sam let out a breath and nodded, pushing to his feet. Bucky glanced around the mess and realized that the various SHIELD agents and Avengers at the tables around them were pointedly not looking at them. He stood up and obediently followed Sam up to his office, heart sinking down to his stomach.

There’d been just a little bit of hope burning in his chest for the past eleven months and Bucky had a real sinking suspicion that that hope was about to be burnt out. Sam was a kind man and he would let Bucky down easy. There wasn’t a man on Earth that could continue a relationship with the man that killed his best friend, brainwashed or otherwise.

Redwing was in Sam’s office, on a perch near his desk. Sam stepped up next to the bird and stroked his head and down his back. Jealousy burned in Bucky’s gut and he slammed the office door a little too hard behind himself after he stepped into the office. Stupid.

“Sit down,” Sam told him, motioning to the sitting area off to the side. There were two armchairs across from a comfortable looking couch, separated by a low coffee table that had a few magazines and books on it. Sam murmured something to Redwing and then went over to the drinks cabinet on the other side of the office, pouring himself a few fingers of something and slugging it back. Bucky swallowed thickly and sat down on one end of the couch, squeezing his hands between his knees. They should’ve just done this over text or something. Or he could’ve sent Sam all those letters he wrote and Sam could’ve just never spoken to him again.

Sam brought over two glasses, one filled with soda that he handed to Bucky. He faltered for a moment and then sat on the couch with Bucky, taking the other end. He took a sip of his drink and sighed, looking at Bucky.

The sinking feeling in Bucky’s gut only grew. Sam had bulked out in the last year since Thanos had been killed and the resulting change, and his shirt struggled to contain his muscles. He seemed more confident lately as well, more sure of his place in the world. The bite of Idunn’s apple had brightened him up and he looked healthier than ever, dark skin seeming to hold a shine that Bucky had never seen before.

Something suddenly rose up in his mind: what if Sam had found someone else?

Bucky knew he would never be good enough, had never been good enough for Sam. Surely this had only shown Sam that truth. And surely Sam had gone looking for someone else and was here only to tell Bucky to stop thinking there could be anything between them.

Sam sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said again, turning to look fully at Bucky. “It was my fault this went on for so long. It was wrong to leave you hanging like this.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, nodded. “You don’t—”

Sam held up a hand. “Can I just get through this, Buck? I’ve been trying to think of what to say for eleven months and I just need to get it all out.” Bucky nodded, taking a sip of soda. His other hand suddenly ached with the urge to hold Sam’s hand and he squeezed his fingers into a fist to stop himself from reaching out.

“Okay,” Sam began, licking his lips. “Again, I’m sorry. I told you I needed time and never...communicated anything past that. I’ve been seeing a therapist. She’s been helping me figure out what I want to do.” His hand was shaking when he brought his drink up to his mouth to take a sip. “I know we talked five months ago at Clint’s house, but I haven’t seen you since then. I—I think about you every day, Buck. I miss you more than I thought possible to miss someone.”

Bucky frowned at him, trying to not let hope rekindle in his chest.

“I know you killed Riley. Or the Soldier killed him. I don’t _care_. I saw what life would be like without you and I don’t care what you did. I would take you killing _anyone_ I cared about if it meant I had you. Loki told me that it was kind of romantic that you killed Riley, which, of course, is the most insane thing I think someone has ever said to me.”

Bucky snorted and was gifted with one of Sam’s grins.

“Yeah, I know. But that got me thinking about it. About destiny. I think we make our own. And I want my destiny to be with you.” Sam set his drink on the coffee table and reached forward to take Bucky’s drink from him as well, putting it next to his on the table before reaching out to take both of Bucky’s hands in his. Bucky let out a quivering breath and slowly tightened his fingers around Sam’s, reveling in the way their skin felt against each other’s. Sam’s hands were more calloused than he remembered, but stronger and firmer. Sam looked him in the eye, searching his gaze. “Buck, I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault. Riley dying was the worst thing I ever lived through until I saw what life would be like without you.”

Bucky nodded, ducking his chin. “Sam,” he whispered. “I thought...I just want you.”

Sam pulled at Bucky’s hands and Bucky went, sliding his arms around Sam’s waist as Sam’s arms settled around his shoulders. Bucky’s breath hitched as he pushed his face into Sam’s neck and Sam pulled him even closer, Bucky curling up in his lap, trying to hold in his tears.

“I’m sorry about Redwing,” Sam continued. “It was an accident.”

“I know,” Bucky whispered. “It’s just...not fair.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Sam promised him, holding him tight. Bucky took in deep, gasping breaths against his neck, trying to breathe him in. It felt like he could never be close enough again; the absence of the last eleven months would surely always be between them.

A few minutes later, Sam pulled back and Bucky lifted his face, searching his gaze. “I didn’t want to,” Bucky told him. “I didn’t want to do any of them. Or I...I did. I don’t know. I didn’t have a choice.”

Sam nodded. “I know,” he murmured. He cleared his throat and his eyes dropped to Bucky’s mouth. Bucky smiled slightly and leaned forward, sighing in relief when Sam met him in the middle. Their mouths moved together, soft and gentle and everything Bucky had been hoping for for almost a year.

Sam pulled back first, right before someone knocked brusquely on the door to his office. He pressed another quick kiss to Bucky’s mouth and then slid Bucky off his lap and back onto the couch. He stood up and stroked a hand through Bucky’s growing hair and smiled down at him, and then moved over to the door and opened it to reveal Natasha Romanoff, the Valkyrie standing behind her.

“Nat, hey,” Sam greeted, not opening the door to let the two of them in. “Glad to see you back. Can we catch up later? I’m in the middle of something.”

Bucky gave an uncomfortable wave from the couch and then sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck when Natasha peered around Sam to see him. “Ah,” Natasha said, the Valkyrie muttering something behind her that Bucky couldn’t quite catch. “I’m glad to see it. Welcome back, Barnes.” Bucky waved at her again and then shook his head at himself, reaching over to swallow Sam’s drink. It was mostly rum and he grimaced at the taste. Natasha said something about Asgard and Sam sighed, telling him that he would be back in a minute and he stepped out into the hall, shutting the office door behind himself. 

Bucky got up and looked across the office to meet Redwing’s gaze. He swallowed thickly and then levered himself to his feet, quietly moving across the office. The falcon cocked his head at him and Bucky smiled slightly. “Hey,” he muttered, feeling a little silly, and Redwing shuffled closer to him on his perch. Bucky gently brought up his seidr hand and Redwing hopped onto his arm, reaching forward to peck gently at his cheek. “Thanks,” Bucky whispered. “I hope he’s being nice to you. You deserve it.”

Redwing cocked his head at him and made a soft sound, opening his beak. Bucky smiled at him and reached up to brush his fingers over the soft feathers on his chest.

There was a camera shutter sound and Bucky turned his head to see Sam grimacing down at his phone. “Thought I turned that off,” Sam muttered, finagling with the volume switch before holding his phone up again. “Smile, babe.”

“Babe,” Bucky repeated in a whisper, blushing and turning his head back to Redwing, who blinked slowly at him.

Sam took a few more pictures and then turned his attention back to his phone, smiling down at it. He came closer to show Bucky the pictures, and then made one of the pictures his lockscreen. Sam pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and ran his fingers over Redwing’s back.

“Will you stay here?” Sam asked. “You don’t have to. Loki made a few portals for us before he left. One of them goes back to Clint’s house, so you can stay there.”

Bucky nodded, feeling like his throat was going to close up. “Maybe I’ll stay there,” he murmured, herding Redwing back to his perch with his other hand. He cleared his throat and glanced at Sam through his lashes. “I took care of Clint for six months and then spent the last four alone in the cabin before coming here. I...there’s so many _people_ here.”

Sam nodded, cupping Bucky’s chin and gently tipped his head up. “Whatever you want,” Sam promised him. “I’m in it for the long haul.”

Bucky smiled at him and believed him. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Me too.”

* * *

Bucky met Strange outside his door the next morning. He caught sight of Strange’s quarters as he opened the door and wasn’t really surprised to see that they were completely empty. The guy must’ve been magicking in every day and sleeping somewhere else, probably the Sanctum.

“Can you check something for me?” Bucky asked him as Strange closed his door behind him. Strange raised his eyebrows at him. “Sam said Loki put up a portal in his room. I just want to...make sure.”

“You don’t trust Loki’s magic?” Strange asked him, sounding a bit amused, following Bucky up a floor to Sam’s rooms.

“It’s not that,” Bucky hedged, but he sighed and continued, “Okay, no. I trust Loki with my life. He saved mine, after all. But he’s, y’know, Loki. He’d think it was funny if the portal sent me to Utah or somewhere every ten times or something.”

Strange considered that. “You’re not wrong,” he finally agreed. “I’ll check it.” The two of them stopped outside Sam’s door and Bucky took a deep breath before knocking.

Sam opened the door a few seconds later, raising his eyebrows at the two of them but waving them in. He was shirtless and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek before going back to his bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him. Strange closed the door behind them and both of their attention was drawn to the huge portal dominating the wall next to the TV. It was green, of course, and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was moving clockwise or counter-clockwise; it seemed to keep switching directions whenever he focused on it.

Strange made a curious sound and moved closer to the portal, pulling on a two-finger ring on one hand and holding it up, orange magic arcing out from his fingers. It created some kind of shield and then Strange held up his other hand, a long orange tendril curling around his shaking fingers. Strange sent the tendril through the portal and his Cloak began to flutter higher up around his calves.

“I usually tack a sheet up over it,” Sam said from behind Bucky, sliding a hand over Bucky’s lower back and wrapping his arm around his waist. Bucky turned his head to smile at him, leaning into Sam’s side. Sam still hadn’t put a shirt on but he smelled good and Bucky pressed a kiss to his cheek. Part of him was uncomfortable with the contact due to not having it for nearly a year but a bigger part of him reveled in it and he leaned heavily into Sam’s side. Sam’s arm tightened around his waist. “It’s kind of freaky, honestly.”

Bucky nodded. “Loki’s magic usually freaks me out,” he admitted. “It’s impressive but something about it makes me shudder.”

Sam just snorted.

Strange pulled the magic orange tendril out of the portal and stepped back. He brushed his hands off on each other and the orange magic disappeared as he turned back to them with a flourish of his Cloak. Overdramatic bastard. Maybe magic just made people act like that. “Strangely enough,” Strange began, cocking an eyebrow at them, “the portal seems to act precisely as intended. It will take you to Clint’s house and there is a corresponding portal on the other end that will return you here. I did not see any...Loki tricks.”

Bucky pulled away from Sam and moved closer to Strange. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.” He turned to look back at Sam, who had a concerned look on his face but was trying to hide it. “I’m going to go back to Clint’s house. I’ll come back here for dinner a few times a week, if that works.”

“Of course, Buck,” Sam said, his voice tender. “Whatever works for you.” He cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Strange, who rolled his eyes at the two of them and excused himself from Sam’s rooms, shutting the door behind him. Sam waited until he was gone and then turned his attention back to Bucky. “We’ll do dinner every day. You can come here or I can go through the portal. I just...I want things back the way they were.”

Bucky nodded. He realized he had defensively crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his hands back to his sides. He cleared his throat. “I know,” he said. “Sam, I just...it was a _year_. I can’t just jump back to the way we were.”

Sam nodded, swallowing thickly. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath. “I love you,” he told Bucky, who smiled tightly at him. “We have all the time in the world. Go back to Clint’s house and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Eager to get rid of me that quick?” Bucky teased, taking a deep breath and moving across the room to take one of Sam’s hands in both of his. Sam smiled at him. “I’ll eat breakfast and go over there afterwards. Come on, Cap. Put on a shirt and let’s go eat.”

* * *

Bucky came back to the Facility a week later, stepping out through the sickening portal into Sam’s living room. The door to Redwing’s room was open and he could see Sam in there, talking quietly to the bird. Bucky smiled at seeing the two of them together. He had brought his 100-year journal and all the letters he’d written to Sam and put them on the coffee table, along with a rose and a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

He sat down on the couch without looking and was surprised to hear a scandalized yowl from a cat, and Bucky jumped back up to realize he had nearly sat on a white cat. It hissed at him, narrowing bright blue eyes, and Bucky stared down at it.

“Buck, hey,” came Sam’s voice from the doorway to Redwing’s room. Sam shut the door behind him and came up next to him, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “I felt bad about the whole Redwing situation, figured you could use a friend while you’re alone in that house.”

“You got me a _cat?_ ” Bucky whispered, reaching out a shaking hand. The cat arched up and sniffed his hand and then immediately began purring, pushing up into Bucky’s hand. Bucky held in a soft gasp and leaned forward to pet the cat behind the ears. “Sam, I…”

“Yeah, Buck. A cat.”

“She’s beautiful,” Bucky said, perching on the edge of the couch, full attention on the cat. She purred at him and then climbed into his lap, curling up into a ball so he could pet her with both hands. Bucky blinked sudden tears out of his eyes and smiled tearfully up at Sam, who was looking at him softly and tenderly, all the love in the world in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Least I could do,” Sam said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “Glad you like her.” Sam joined him on the couch, reaching around Bucky to pet the cat, who rolled over to show her belly. “Hopefully she likes the house.”

Bucky nodded. It had been nice to be alone in Clint’s house again, been nice to bring life back to the cold, empty place. The cat would help. “I’m no good at names,” he murmured, smiling as the cat suddenly decided she was done being pet and jumped off his lap and landed on the coffee table, stretching languorously and purring at the two of them.

Sam slid his arm across Bucky’s shoulders and tugged Bucky into his side, the two of them leaning back against the couch, watching the cat curl up to clean herself. “Maybe something to do with snow? Or winter?”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to Sam’s cheek and smile at him. “I’ll think of somethin’.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!
> 
> this author accepts all comments, including constructive criticism to keysmashes to compliments. please leave comments and kudos! thank you!


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